In 1978, California congressman Leo Ryan was on a fact-finding mission to Guyana. He was investigating the rumors about Jonestown—the settlement that cult leader Jim Jones had established. In an effort to bring the cult members back to the U.S., Ryan was gunned down and killed.

Here his daughter, Erin Ryan, remembers her father and some of their last moments together before his death.

In the 1920s, Dr. John A. Kenney left Tuskegee, Alabama after receiving death threats from the Ku Klux Klan. He moved to Newark, New Jersey, and helped found the city's first hospital for African-Americans.

Here, his granddaughters Linda Kenney Miller and her sister Diane Kenney remember their grandfather, and his dedication to the hospital.

Nathan Hoskins knew from an early age that he was gay. But he quickly learned to keep that a secret. Nathan grew up in rural Kentucky, in a family that didn’t tolerate homosexuality. At StoryCorps, he told his friend Sally Evans just how dangerous it was to be himself.

Liza Long’s 13--year--old son was first diagnosed with mental illness when he was 8 years old. He struggles with rage and violent outbursts.

In late December 2012, in the wake of the shootings in Newtown, Connecticut, Liza wrote a blogpost, “I am Adam Lanza's Mother,” in which she urged the country to focus on treatment for mentally ill youth.

She wrote, “I love my son, but he terrifies me.”

At StoryCorps, Liza sat down with her son. (His real name and image have been withheld to protect his privacy.)

In 2003, Kris Kalberer left her job as a retail manager to raise her kids and care for her elderly mother. The family did well on her husband’s income from his job at Countrywide. But he lost his job in the mortgage crisis. Their finances spiraled out of control, and they lost their house in 2011.

Since then they’ve lived with friends and in motels. Currently, the family lives in their car.

At StoryCorps, Kris sat down with her teenage daughter, Erika Kalberer, to talk about their situation.

In 2009, Sergeant Paul Braun was serving near Basra, Iraq with the 34th Military Police Company of the Minnesota Army National Guard. They were assigned an interpreter, and the American soldiers nicknamed him Philip.

During the next nine months, Paul and Philip grew close. So close, in fact, that upon returning to the U.S., Paul sponsored Philip’s visa. They now live together in Minnesota.

But Philip’s wife and children stayed behind in Iraq. So, in October 2014, Philip returned to his home country to try to reach his family and bring them back to the U.S., where they will all live with Paul.

Before leaving, Philip and Paul sat down for a conversation at StoryCorps.

Retired Army Sgt 1st Class Max Voelz first recorded in 2011 to remember his wife, Staff Sgt Kim Voelz. They met on Valentine’s Day, while training to work in Explosive Ordinance Disposal–the Army’s elite bomb squad.

Both Max and Kim were sent to Iraq in 2003. One night, Max called in the location of an explosive and Kim was sent to disarm it. She did not survive the mission.

Around the time Max recorded his first interview, he turned to another bomb tech, Sgt Mary Dague, for support. Mary lost both of her arms in Iraq.

She talked Max through his lowest points, but they didn’t meet face to face until years later, when they recorded for StoryCorps.

In 2007, Franklin Gilliard and his wife Sherry, a teacher’s aide, decided to start their own business: a driving school.

But the following year, they were hit hard by the economic recession. Soon after, they found themselves behind on their bills and mortgage. Despite their efforts to stay afloat, their business went under and they lost their house.

Dr. Couney pioneered the use of incubators to keep premature infants alive in the late 1800s. But the medical establishment initially rejected the practice. So, each summer for 40 years, Dr. Couney funded his work by setting up an exhibition of the babies and charging the public admission.

Parents didn’t have to pay for the medical care, and many children survived who would have never had a chance otherwise.

Ninety-five-year-old Lucille Horn was one of them. Here, she tells her daughter, Barbara, about spending the summer of 1920 in an incubator on Coney Island.

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Burnell Cotlon owns and operates the only grocery store in the Lower Ninth Ward. When it opened in 2014, it was the first grocery store to serve that neighborhood since Hurricane Katrina. Here, he speaks with his mother, Lillie.

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Tyra Treadway and her daughter, Ardyn, remember their husband and father, Dr. James Kent Treadway, a beloved pediatrician in New Orleans. Dr. Treadway committed suicide three months after Hurricane Katrina.

After Army Private First Class Brian Orolin returned from Afghanistan in 2011, everything seemed fine. But as the years went by, his wife, Donna, could tell something wasn’t right. He became paranoid, suffered constant headaches, and would isolate himself in his bedroom with the lights dimmed.

Then, on November 19, Brian left his home and family. He’s been missing ever since.

At StoryCorps, Donna remembered the day he returned from Afghanistan, and the moments before he disappeared.

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Isaac Feliciano, a longtime worker at Brooklyn's historic Green-Wood Cemetery, remembers being at his job on September 11, 2001, when his wife, Rosa Maria Feliciano, was killed while working in the World Trade Center.

Isaac Feliciano has been working at Brooklyn’s historic Green-Wood cemetery for 21 years. He has done many jobs there and is currently a field foreman, supervising landscape and maintenance workers on the grounds.

On September 11, 2001 he dropped his wife off at the subway so she could get to her job at Marsh & McLennan in the South Tower of the World Trade Center. He then headed to work at Green-Wood.

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On October 4, 1971, George Giffe, a 35-year-old Tennessee man suffering from mental illness hijacked a charter plane at gunpoint from the Nashville airport. Andy Downs, the son of one of the two hostages killed that day speaks with Angelia Sheer, the daughter of the hijacker.

On Oct 4, 1971, George Giffe, a 35-year-old Tennessee man suffering from mental illness, hijacked a charter plane at gunpoint from the Nashville airport. He also claimed to be in possession of a bomb.

Running low on fuel, the plane’s pilot landed in Jacksonville, FL, where the FBI was waiting. After a brief standoff, Giffe killed the two hostages who remained onboard before turning the gun on himself.

One of the two was Brent Downs—the pilot of the plane.

At StoryCorps, Brent’s son Andy spoke with Angelia Sheer, the daughter of the man who killed his father.

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When Andrea Crook was 24, she began having paranoid thoughts, delusions, and her behavior became erratic. She picked up the phone and called her mother, Marilyn Hillerman. In their interview, they reflect back almost 20 years to that call and its aftermath.

After graduating high school, Andrea Crook moved from her parent’s home in Northern California to Los Angeles. She was on her own for the first time in her life and had never before knowingly experienced the symptoms of mental illness.

A few years later, when she was 24, Andrea began having paranoid thoughts, delusions, and her behavior became erratic. One day she picked up the phone and called her mother, Marilyn Hillerman, who knew by the tone of her voice that Andrea needed her help.

Almost 20 years later, the two of them sat down for StoryCorps in Sacramento, California, to discuss that call and its aftermath.

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When Andrea Crook was 24, she began having paranoid thoughts, delusions, and her behavior became erratic. She picked up the phone and called her mother, Marilyn Hillerman. In their interview, they reflect back almost 20 years to that call and its aftermath.

After graduating high school, Andrea Crook moved from her parent’s home in Northern California to Los Angeles. She was on her own for the first time in her life and had never before knowingly experienced the symptoms of mental illness.

A few years later, when she was 24, Andrea began having paranoid thoughts, delusions, and her behavior became erratic. One day she picked up the phone and called her mother, Marilyn Hillerman, who knew by the tone of her voice that Andrea needed her help.

Almost 20 years later, the two of them sat down for StoryCorps in Sacramento, California, to discuss that call and its aftermath.

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When Andrea Crook was 24, she began having paranoid thoughts, delusions, and her behavior became erratic. She picked up the phone and called her mother, Marilyn Hillerman. In their interview, they reflect back almost 20 years to that call and its aftermath.

After graduating high school, Andrea Crook moved from her parent’s home in Northern California to Los Angeles. She was on her own for the first time in her life and had never before knowingly experienced the symptoms of mental illness.

A few years later, when she was 24, Andrea began having paranoid thoughts, delusions, and her behavior became erratic. One day she picked up the phone and called her mother, Marilyn Hillerman, who knew by the tone of her voice that Andrea needed her help.

Almost 20 years later, the two of them sat down for StoryCorps in Sacramento, California, to discuss that call and its aftermath.

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When Andrea Crook was 24, she began having paranoid thoughts, delusions, and her behavior became erratic. She picked up the phone and called her mother, Marilyn Hillerman. In their interview, they reflect back almost 20 years to that call and its aftermath.

After graduating high school, Andrea Crook moved from her parent’s home in Northern California to Los Angeles. She was on her own for the first time in her life and had never before knowingly experienced the symptoms of mental illness.

A few years later, when she was 24, Andrea began having paranoid thoughts, delusions, and her behavior became erratic. One day she picked up the phone and called her mother, Marilyn Hillerman, who knew by the tone of her voice that Andrea needed her help.

Almost 20 years later, the two of them sat down for StoryCorps in Sacramento, California, to discuss that call and its aftermath.

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When Andrea Crook was 24, she began having paranoid thoughts, delusions, and her behavior became erratic. She picked up the phone and called her mother, Marilyn Hillerman. In their interview, they reflect back almost 20 years to that call and its aftermath.

After graduating high school, Andrea Crook moved from her parent’s home in Northern California to Los Angeles. She was on her own for the first time in her life and had never before knowingly experienced the symptoms of mental illness.

A few years later, when she was 24, Andrea began having paranoid thoughts, delusions, and her behavior became erratic. One day she picked up the phone and called her mother, Marilyn Hillerman, who knew by the tone of her voice that Andrea needed her help.

Almost 20 years later, the two of them sat down for StoryCorps in Sacramento, California, to discuss that call and its aftermath.

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In 1995, two armed men forced Janette Fennell and her husband Greig into the trunk of the Fennell's car. The men drove off with Janette believing that her infant son, Alex, was still in the car in his car seat. Twenty years after surviving the kidnapping, Janette and Alex came to StoryCorps.

Days before Halloween in 1995, Janette Fennell, her husband Greig, and their 9-month-old son Alex arrived home from a night out with friends. After pulling into the garage of their San Francisco home, they were confronted by two armed men who forced the couple at gunpoint into the trunk of the Fennell’s car and drove away.

During the several-hour ordeal, which the family survived, both Janette and Greig believed that Alex was still in the backseat of the car in his car seat were they had left him.

The carjackers were never caught, but Janette and her husband continued to drive the car they were kidnapped in for several years.

Alex, now in college, sat down for StoryCorps with his mom to talk about the experience.

Janette went on to devote herself to improving car safety by founding a nonprofit that lobbies for car safety reform. Due to her efforts, emergency trunk releases are now standard equipment on all new cars. She has also worked on legislation requiring child safe windows and rear view cameras on all cars.

Teresa Valko’s family has been battling Alzheimer’s—a progressive disease that attacks the brain causing memory loss, the deterioration of thought and language skills, and changes in behavior—for generations. According to Teresa, on her mother’s side of the family, there is a 100% occurrence of Alzheimer’s disease.

For many years, Teresa, who lives in California, would spend hours on the phone chatting with her mother, Evelyn Wilson, in Georgia. But in 2007, Evelyn began to show the early symptoms of Alzheimer’s.

At StoryCorps, Teresa sat down with friends Lisa Farrell and Doris Barnhart to talk about her weekly telephone conversations with her mother and how they have changed over the years, as well as what she has learned about her own future health after undergoing genetic testing.

In the early 1980s, Tom Graziano and his wife adopted an almost 2-year-old boy named John. As a child, he was constantly sick, but doctors where never able to determine why.

In 1986, when John was in the second grade at Central Elementary School in Wilmette, Illinois, his parents discovered the reason for his health problems—John was HIV positive having contracted the disease from his biological mother.

At StoryCorps, Tom sat down with John’s elementary school principal, Paul Nilsen, to discuss the reaction of other students attending the school and among members of their suburban Chicago community to John during the AIDS epidemic in America.

Last year, 11--year--old Benny Smith began feeling strange sensations in his body that felt like small electrical jolts. Soon after, the jolts began lasting longer and growing more intense--Benny was suffering with grand mal seizures (a condition characterized by loss of consciousness and muscle spasms).

The seizures would come at various times, including during the school day where the resulting falls led to multiple concussions.

Often, his mother, Christine Ristaino, would have to pick him up in the middle of the day and bring him home since his condition made it unsafe for him to be in a classroom. Soon after the beginning of sixth grade, Benny was forced to remain at home, being taught by a tutor. An outgoing social kid who loved being around his friends, to him this was one of the most difficult parts of the illness.

But more recently, his condition has begun to improve, and in January, he was able to return to the classroom. Benny and his mom, Christine, came to StoryCorps to mark the occasion and discuss how he has lived with the seizures.

Since the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences announced the nominees for the 2016 Oscars, there has been outrage both online and in the press. For the second year in a row, all 20 individuals nominated in the acting categories are white. The outcry has been so great that the Academy’s governing board voted to add new members in order to increase diversity in the coming years.

For some African Americans who have spent decades around the film industry, this continues to spotlight an age-old problem.

Willie Harris and Alex Brown came to Hollywood in the 1960s dreaming of breaking into the movies as stuntmen. Both were athletic and strong, but despite their qualifications, stunt coordinators repeatedly turned them away.

Realizing that movie studios had little interest in hiring black stuntmen—many wouldn’t even open stages and gyms for them to practice in—they continued to hone their skills training and practicing in public parks around Los Angeles. They would leap from bleachers onto donated mattresses and practice elaborate driving maneuvers using rented cars.

Eventually, Willie and Alex were able to break into the industry. They became original members of the Black Stuntmen’s Association spending decades in Hollywood taking and throwing punches in films like The Color Purple and the James Bond classic Live and Let Die.

Willie and Alex came to StoryCorps to remember how they broke into the movies.

On June 5, 1989, Sean Smith, 10, and his younger sister Erin, 8, returned home together from school. Alone in their empty house, they went into their parents’ bedroom in search of video game cartridges that their mother had previously hidden away.

But instead of finding the games, Sean came across a .38-caliber revolver that was being kept in his father’s dresser drawer. Sean began playing with the gun, and unaware that it was loaded, he pulled the trigger, fatally shooting Erin in the chest. Sean immediately called 911, and that recording of him–pleading for help for his dying sister–was played repeatedly on news stations across the country. (Note: the audio contains a segment of the 911 call.)

Within two weeks of Erin’s shooting, a total of five Florida children were accidentally shot with their parents’ guns, leading the state legislature to pass a gun safety bill punishing anyone who leaves a firearm within reach of a child.

Sean, now 36, has lived with constant pain and guilt as a result of what happened that day. His parents have also had a difficult time coming to terms with the loss of their youngest child. Sean came to StoryCorps with his mother, Lee (seen together above), to discuss the day of the shooting, and how they have tried to cope with the burden of going on with their lives following an unimaginable personal tragedy.

In the summer of 2010, following her junior year of high school, Emma McMahon left her home in Tucson, Arizona, and traveled to Washington, D.C., to work as a page for her local Congresswoman, U.S. Representative Gabrielle Giffords.

Following her internship, she returned home to her family, but without one important memento from her summer—a photo of herself with the congresswoman.

Looking to rectify the situation, her mother, Mary Reed, learned months later that Rep. Giffords would be holding a constituent meet-and-greet in the parking lot of an area shopping center and made plans for her family to attend and finally get that coveted photo.

That was the day, January 8, 2011, that Jared Lee Loughner opened fire on a crowd outside of the Safeway critically wounding Gabby Giffords and shooting 18 others—six of whom were killed.

Mary, one of those who were shot that day, came to StoryCorps with Emma to remember the day she shielded her daughter from a gunman.

In 2014, Nick Hodges and his wife, Charlotte Wheelock, were living in Albuquerque, New Mexico, with their 4- and 6-year-old sons when Nick developed a condition—spinal stenosis—that caused him to be temporarily paralyzed from the waist down.

Already struggling to make ends meet, Charlotte took a leave of absence from her job to care for their children while Nick was hospitalized, and without any steady income, their family lost their home.

Charlotte heard about a job opportunity in another state, so their family packed up and relocated to Seattle, Washington, hoping for a new start. But before they could establish themselves in their new city, Nick ended up back in the hospital leaving their family once again unable to pay rent.

Homeless for 14 months, Charlotte eventually found steady work—she is now employed at one of the shelters the family once lived in—and in time they also managed to find affordable housing for their family.

At StoryCorps, Charlotte and Nick remember what it was like to be a family without a home.

Operation Desert Storm, the portion of the war focused on removing Saddam Hussein’s Iraqi military forces from neighboring Kuwait, began in January 1991.

One of the war’s final battles, waged just before a cease-fire was declared, was a United States-led attack on the Iraqi controlled Jalibah Airfield by the 24th Infantry Division. Army Captain David Taylor was one of the officers leading the troops, and he feared that the plan would result in American soldiers dying as a result of friendly fired. But he did not say anything, and unfortunately, he was right.

Army Specialist Andy Alaniz was a member of a unit not under the command of Capt. Taylor, his vehicle turned sharply during the fight and he ended up in the line of fire. Andy died in the crossfire, one of 35 soldiers killed by friendly fire during the Gulf War.

At the time of his death, Andy, 20, had been married less than a year, and is wife, Catherine Alaniz-Simonds, was six months pregnant. While Andy was in Iraq they would send each other letters and Polaroid photos almost daily. Catherine would give him detailed updates about her pregnancy, and Andy would send back photos scrawled with messages like “Take care of the baby,” and “I love you.”

Days after her baby shower, Catherine learned that on February 27, 1991, Andy had been killed.

Since his death, Catherine has sought out men from both Andy’s unit and the other units present at the airfield to help her better understand what happened to her husband that day. And since that time, now retired Colonel David Taylor has lived with the guilt of believing that he could have done something to prevent the death of his fellow solider.

Earlier this year, at a reunion of the 24th Infantry Division at Fort Stewart in Hinesville, Georgia, Catherine and David (pictured in the player above) met face-to-face for the first time. They sat down for StoryCorps to talk about the day Andy died and how it has impacted both of their lives.

Catherine and Andy’s daughter, Andee, will turn 25 later this year. In 1992, the photographer David Turnley won a World Press Photo of the Year prize for his image of the grief shown by Sergeant Ken Kozakiewicz who was being evacuated to a hospital by helicopter upon learning that the body bag accompanying him and fellow wounded soldier Corporal Michael Tsangarakis contained the remains of his friend, Andy Alaniz.

In 1978, Patricia Mishler left her home in England and moved to the United States after marrying an American. The mother of two daughters—Suzanne, 13, and Janette, 11—her family first lived in Indiana before eventually resettling in Nashville, Tennessee.

Patricia, now 73 years old, was diagnosed about a year and a half ago with ALS. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, destroys motor neurons, the nerve cells that control muscle movement in the brain and spinal cord leading to progressive paralysis and eventual death.

Most people with ALS die from respiratory failure, usually within three to five years from the onset of symptoms. (According to the National Institutes of Health, only about 10% of those with ALS survive for 10 years or more.)

A grandmother to more than a dozen grandchildren, Patricia once spent much of her free time pursuing favorite hobbies like gardening, sewing, and cooking. But since her diagnosis in October 2014, she has been unable to enjoy them any longer.

Suzanne and Janette recently brought their mother to StoryCorps to talk to her about what it’s been like for her to live with ALS, and also her thoughts on knowing that the disease will one day take her life.

Those questions immediately became a sound bite and a punchline for late night comedians, and for millions of Americans, they defined a man they knew little about.

Adm. Stockdale’s legacy goes far beyond a few sentences spoken at a debate. Over the course of his Naval career, he earned 26 combat awards including two Distinguished Flying Crosses, three Distinguished Service Medals, two Purple Hearts, four Silver Stars, and in 1976 President Gerald Ford presented him with our nation’s highest military honor, the Medal of Honor.

In 1947, Adm. Stockdale graduated from the United States Naval Academy, and in 1965, then-Captain Stockdale’s plane was shot down over North Vietnam. He was then captured and brought to the Hoa Lo Prison, infamously referred to as the Hanoi Hilton.

Being the highest-ranking Naval officer held prisoner of war, he became a leader among the other POWs establishing a code of conduct to help keep them from being used by the North Vietnamese for propaganda purposes. Adm. Stockdale, who was forced to wear leg irons for two years while held captive, at one point slashed his own face with a razor to keep from being put on camera, and according to his Medal of Honor citation, he once used glass from a broken window to slit his own wrist in order to “convince his captors of his willingness to give up his life rather than capitulate.”

During his seven and a half years as a POW, Adm. Stockdale was able to send letters to his wife, Sybil, in California. Quickly, she figured out his correspondences contained coded messages and she coordinated with the CIA to continue their communications while her husband was held captive.

Sybil herself was a force to be reckoned with. She was a vocal advocate for the families of POWs and soldiers missing in action at a time when the United States government followed a “keep quiet” policy, asking relatives of POWs not to call attention to their family members (this policy was primarily for public relations purposes). And as a response, she helped found the National League of Families of American Prisoners Missing in Southeast Asia, a nonprofit organization that is still active today as The National League of POW/MIA Families.

In 1979, Sybil was awarded the U.S. Navy Department’s Distinguished Public Service Award, presented to civilians for specific courageous or heroic acts. The citation that accompanied the honor noted, “Her actions and indomitable spirit in the face of many adversities contributed immeasurably to the successful safe return of American prisoners, gave hope, solace and support to their families in a time of need and reflected the finest traditions of the Naval service and of the United States of America.”

In July 2005, Adm. Stockdale died at the age of 81, and in October 2015, Sybil died at the age of 90. They are buried alongside each other at the United States Naval Academy Cemetery in Annapolis, Maryland.

Their son, Jim, who was a teenager at the time of his father’s capture, came to StoryCorps with his friend, Jasey Schnaars, to talk about his mother’s strength as they waited for his father’s return home.

For as long as she can remember, Eileen Kushner has had a difficult time reading and doing simple math. Growing up in Detroit the 1950s, she recalls her teachers calling her “stupid” and “lazy,” but no one knew she had a processing disorder until she was tested and diagnosed by a psychiatrist when she was in her mid-30s. “It was like a door in my brain would drop and it wouldn’t allow me to process any of the information.”

After graduating high school, Eileen married Larry Kushner and over time they had three daughters. Eileen hoped that staying out of the workforce would help her hide her learning difficulties, but surviving on the money Larry earned as a bank teller was hard. There were days when their family didn’t have enough food in the refrigerator, so Eileen began to look for a job.

She worked briefly as a secretary but was fired because her notes were riddled with misspellings, and then Larry suggested that she apply for a job at the McDonald’s next to the bank where he worked. Eileen was overjoyed when she got the job and started by making French fries and milkshakes and cleaning the floors. She secretly hoped she would not be promoted because she knew that would mean working at the cash register.

In the 1960s, McDonald’s cashiers manually calculated the cost of an order, and Eileen was afraid that a promotion would lead others to discover her secret -- she wasn’t able to add. But she did so well with her first responsibilities that a promotion to the register soon followed. For Eileen, it was a tragic moment, and she told Larry she was going to quit. That’s when he came up with a solution.

Larry brought home different denominations of bills from the bank, and Eileen brought home Big Mac boxes, French fry containers, and cups, and they began playing McDonald’s at their kitchen counter. Larry would pretend to be the customer and Eileen would practice adding up his order. They did this every day until Eileen felt comfortable enough to accept her promotion.

Eileen moved her way up at McDonald’s eventually becoming a manager and then attending Hamburger University. Together Eileen and Larry have owned five separate McDonald’s restaurants (currently, they own one). Now in their 70s, she credits Larry with their success while he believes that it was her dogged perseverance and hard work that got them to where they are today.

Carmen Pacheco-Jones grew up in an unstable home and had stopped attending school by the time she was 13 years old. She was abusing drugs and alcohol, and throughout her childhood, she spent time in and out of more than a dozen foster homes.

Her drug and alcohol dependence continued into adulthood--even as Carmen started her own family. Her five children remember being raised in a chaotic home; that changed nearly 20 years ago when police in Washington state raided the house where the family was living. Following her arrest, the children were separated and placed in different foster homes.

At StoryCorps, Carmen sat down with her 27-year-old daughter, Jasmine, who was 10 years old when the raid took place, to remember what it was like when their family reconnected after being torn apart.

Today Carmen has been alcohol and drug free for 17 years and is a part of all of her children and grandchildren’s lives. This winter Jasmine is on track to graduate from Eastern Washington University with a degree in psychology and a minor in art.

Vernon Dahmer was a successful black farmer and businessman in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, who fought for voting rights in the mid-1960s. He was killed January 10, 1966, after the Ku Klux Klan firebombed his home. At StoryCorps, his widow, Ellie Dahmer, and daughter Bettie Dahmer, remember that night.

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Mary Johnson-Roy first came to StoryCorps in 2011 to talk about her bond with the young man who killed her son. Years later, she married a man who lives with a similar tragedy. StoryCorps brings an update to her story.

Mary Johnson-Roy first came to StoryCorps in 2011 to talk about her bond with the young man who killed her son. Years later, she married a man who lives with a similar tragedy. StoryCorps brings an update to her story.

On June 12, 2016 a lone gunman killed 49 people at the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, Florida.Among those killed was Deonka Drayton. She was 32.
Deonka left behind a young son and her co-parent, Emily Addison. At StoryCorps, Emily sat down to remember her.
There were hundreds of people at Pulse the night of the shooting, and some were able to escape in time.

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StoryCorps gives people the chance to sit down together and have a conversation they’ve never had before. Five Mualimm-ak did just that with his son, Omar, who was five years old when his father was first incarcerated.

By the time Mr. Mualimm-ak was finished serving his sentence for weapons charges, he had been in prison for nearly a dozen years, many of those spent in solitary confinement. When he was released in 2012, Omar was a senior in high school. The two have had difficulty connecting since then. They came to StoryCorps together to talk about their relationship for the first time.

StoryCorps gives people the chance to sit down together and have a conversation they’ve never had before. Five Mualimm-ak did just that with his son, Omar, who was five years old when his father was first incarcerated.
By the time Mr. Mualimm-ak was finished serving his sentence for weapons charges, he had been in prison for nearly a dozen years, many of those spent in solitary confinement. When he was released in 2012, Omar was a senior in high school. The two have had difficulty connecting since then. They came to StoryCorps together to talk about their relationship for the first time.

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On July 20, 2012, a gunman shot and killed 12 people in a packed movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. One of the victims was Alex Sullivan. He was celebrating his birthday at the movies that night — something he had done since he was a small child. Alex and a group of friends planned to see a midnight showing of the latest Batman film, just as he turned 27.

Five years later, his parents, Tom and Terry Sullivan, sat down at StoryCorps to remember him.

On July 20, 2012, a gunman shot and killed 12 people in a packed movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. One of the victims was Alex Sullivan. He was celebrating his birthday at the movies that night — something he had done since he was a small child. Alex and a group of friends planned to see a midnight showing of the latest Batman film, just as he turned 27.
Five years later, his parents, Tom and Terry Sullivan, sat down at StoryCorps to remember him.

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One night, in October 2015, Asma Jama went out for dinner with her family at an Applebee’s restaurant in Coon Rapids, Minnesota. Asma, who is Somali American and Muslim, was wearing a hijab, as she always does.

While Asma was talking with her cousin in Swahili, a woman named Jodie Bruchard-Risch, who was seated nearby, told her to speak English or go back to her country. When Asma responded to say that she was a U.S. citizen, the woman smashed a beer mug across Asma’s face. She was rushed to the hospital and required 17 stitches in her face, hands and chest.

Bruchard-Risch pleaded guilty to felony assault charges and served time in jail for the crime. After the trial, her sister, Dawn Sahr, contacted Asma online and they struck up a correspondence.

One night, in October 2015, Asma Jama went out for dinner with her family at an Applebee’s restaurant in Coon Rapids, Minnesota. Asma, who is Somali American and Muslim, was wearing a hijab, as she always does.
While Asma was talking with her cousin in Swahili, a woman named Jodie Bruchard-Risch, who was seated nearby, told her to speak English or go back to her country. When Asma responded to say that she was a U.S. citizen, the woman smashed a beer mug across Asma’s face. She was rushed to the hospital and required 17 stitches in her face, hands and chest.
Bruchard-Risch pleaded guilty to felony assault charges and served time in jail for the crime. After the trial, her sister, Dawn Sahr, contacted Asma online and they struck up a correspondence.
At StoryCorps, Dawn and Asma met in person for the first time.

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When Wally Funk was 8 years old, she jumped off the roof of her barn while wearing a Superman cape, hoping to fly. That desire never left her, and as an adult she became a pilot and flight instructor. But for Wally, the ultimate destination was always outer space.

She almost got the chance to go in 1961. That year, she was part of a group of female pilots who took part in tests to determine if women were fit for space travel. The project was run by the same doctor who developed tests for NASA astronauts.

The women, who became known as the Mercury 13, passed many of the same tests as the men, but never got to go to space. More than half a century later, Wally Funk hasn’t given up.

She was interviewed in Dallas by one of her flight students, Mary Holsenbeck.

Wally bought a ticket for Richard Branson’s Virgin Galactic and hopes to be onboard its maiden voyage into space.

When Wally Funk was 8 years old, she jumped off the roof of her barn while wearing a Superman cape, hoping to fly. That desire never left her, and as an adult she became a pilot and flight instructor. But for Wally, the ultimate destination was always outer space.
She almost got the chance to go in 1961. That year, she was part of a group of female pilots who took part in tests to determine if women were fit for space travel. The project was run by the same doctor who developed tests for NASA astronauts.
The women, who became known as the Mercury 13, passed many of the same tests as the men, but never got to go to space. More than half a century later, Wally Funk hasn’t given up.
She was interviewed in Dallas by one of her flight students, Mary Holsenbeck.
Wally bought a ticket for Richard Branson’s Virgin Galactic and hopes to be onboard its maiden voyage into space.

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In the mid-1990s, Reverend Sylvia Bullock was raising two kids on her own near Washington, D.C. while working and going to college full-time.

Her teenage son, Marcus, saw how hard his mother was working — and how little they had — and decided to take matters into his own hands. He and a friend committed a carjacking, and although he was 15 years old, Marcus was tried as an adult. He served eight years for the crime.

Marcus was released in 2004. Since then he has created an app, called Flikshop, that makes it easier for inmates and their families to stay in touch. His mom works for his tech company as Fulfillment Manager and Mom-in-Chief. She received her Doctor of Ministry in 2008.

In the mid-1990s, Reverend Sylvia Bullock was raising two kids on her own near Washington, D.C. while working and going to college full-time.
Her teenage son, Marcus, saw how hard his mother was working — and how little they had — and decided to take matters into his own hands. He and a friend committed a carjacking, and although he was 15 years old, Marcus was tried as an adult. He served eight years for the crime.
Marcus was released in 2004. Since then he has created an app, called Flikshop, that makes it easier for inmates and their families to stay in touch. His mom works for his tech company as Fulfillment Manager and Mom-in-Chief. She received her Doctor of Ministry in 2008.

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Francine Anderson grew up in rural Virginia during the 1950s. It was the Jim Crow South and “Whites Only” signs punctuated the windows of many businesses. Francine came to StoryCorps to talk about one night when she became aware of what those signs meant for her family.

Editor’s note: This story contains a quote where a racial slur is used.

Francine Anderson grew up in rural Virginia during the 1950s. It was the Jim Crow South and “Whites Only” signs punctuated the windows of many businesses. Francine came to StoryCorps to talk about one night when she became aware of what those signs meant for her family.
Editor’s note: This story contains a quote where a racial slur is used.

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You may recall the voice of Dr. William “Lynn” Weaver from a StoryCorps interview he did back in 2007, where he talked about his father, Ted Weaver — the most important man in his life.

He later came back to StoryCorps to remember someone else who had a huge influence on him: his 7th grade science teacher, Mr. Edward O. Hill.
In the fall of 1964, Weaver was 14 years old and about to start his sophomore year of high school in Knoxville, Tennessee, when, along with 13 other black students, he integrated previously all-white West High School.

At StoryCorps, he talks about what happened on his first day at West High.

You may recall the voice of Dr. William “Lynn” Weaver from a StoryCorps interview he did back in 2007, where he talked about his father, Ted Weaver — the most important man in his life.
He later came back to StoryCorps to remember someone else who had a huge influence on him: his 7th grade science teacher, Mr. Edward O. Hill.
In the fall of 1964, Weaver was 14 years old and about to start his sophomore year of high school in Knoxville, Tennessee, when, along with 13 other black students, he integrated previously all-white West High School.
At StoryCorps, he talks about what happened on his first day at West High.

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In 1964, Dr. William Lynn Weaver was one of 14 black teens who integrated West High School in Knoxville, Tennessee. At StoryCorps, he spoke about his experiences in the classroom and how difficult it was for him to get a quality education there.

Dr. Weaver also integrated the school’s all-white football team, along with other black players, including his older brother, Stanley. Here, he talks about what it was like to play for the West High School Rebels.

In 1964, Dr. William Lynn Weaver was one of 14 black teens who integrated West High School in Knoxville, Tennessee. At StoryCorps, he spoke about his experiences in the classroom and how difficult it was for him to get a quality education there.
Dr. Weaver also integrated the school’s all-white football team, along with other black players, including his older brother, Stanley. Here, he talks about what it was like to play for the West High School Rebels.

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In the 1990s, Johnny Holmes was head of security at a high school in Blue Island, Illinois, located just outside of Chicago, where he met Christian Picciolini, a teenage student who was the leader of a local neo-Nazi group.

Christian was involved for eight years before he renounced the movement’s racist principles. Today, he devotes himself to helping others leave hate groups.

He credits Johnny with being the person who helped turn him around; they came to StoryCorps to remember how it happened.

Christian founded EXIT Solutions, a global organization of former extremists with a mission to help people to leave hateful and violent ideologies.

Johnny now serves on his local school board.

Editor’s note: This story contains a quote where a racial slur is used.

In the 1990s, Johnny Holmes was head of security at a high school in Blue Island, Illinois, located just outside of Chicago, where he met Christian Picciolini, a teenage student who was the leader of a local neo-Nazi group.
Christian was involved for eight years before he renounced the movement’s racist principles. Today, he devotes himself to helping others leave hate groups.
He credits Johnny with being the person who helped turn him around; they came to StoryCorps to remember how it happened.
Christian founded EXIT Solutions, a global organization of former extremists with a mission to help people to leave hateful and violent ideologies.
Johnny now serves on his local school board.
Editor’s note: This story contains a quote where a racial slur is used.

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On the morning of August 10, 1999, a white supremacist opened fire with a semi-automatic weapon at a Jewish day camp in Los Angeles. Five were wounded, including six-year-old Josh Stepakoff, who was shot in his leg and hip, and one person was killed.

Now an adult, Josh sat down with his father, Alan, to remember that day.

The shooter is serving two consecutive life sentences plus 110 years for multiple convictions. His actions were ruled a federal hate crime.

On the morning of August 10, 1999, a white supremacist opened fire with a semi-automatic weapon at a Jewish day camp in Los Angeles. Five were wounded, including six-year-old Josh Stepakoff, who was shot in his leg and hip, and one person was killed.
Now an adult, Josh sat down with his father, Alan, to remember that day.
The shooter is serving two consecutive life sentences plus 110 years for multiple convictions. His actions were ruled a federal hate crime.

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Ginnie Peters remembers her husband, Matt Peters, who committed suicide in May of 2011 after farming for more than 35 years. She spoke with Trent Andrews, the man who took over the farm after his death.

Ginnie Peters remembers her husband, Matt Peters, who committed suicide in May of 2011 after farming for more than 35 years. She spoke with Trent Andrews, the man who took over the farm after his death.

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Greg Yance and Neoma Farr worked alongside each other during the Great Flood of 1993, to gird the town of Niota, Illinois from the rising waters of the Mississippi River. They never knew each other’s names, but sat down to talk with one another 25 years later.

Greg Yance and Neoma Farr worked alongside each other during the Great Flood of 1993, to gird the town of Niota, Illinois from the rising waters of the Mississippi River. They never knew each other’s names, but sat down to talk with one another 25 years later.

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In 2017, Heather Heyer was killed while protesting against a white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia. Her supervisor from the law office she worked in, Alfred Wilson, sat down with her mother, Susan Bro, to remember her.

AW: Heather was very honest with me and told me, ’I don’t type. I’ve never worked in an office. All I’ve done all my life is bartend or waitress.’

SB: So you took a chance.

AW: Yeah. She could communicate with anyone. And, you know, I’m a black male and I might walk out to meet a client and Heather would notice that sometimes they didn’t shake my hand, and that would just infuriate her. And I’m like, ’Where does she get this from?’ Because she grew up in this little small place that’s not that diverse.

SB: She comes from a long line of stubborn people — stubborn and opinionated and not afraid to say so.

That day of the rally, what time did I call you from the hospital?

AW: About two o’clock. I remember my wife told me, ’Oh my God, Alfred. Do you see what happened on the TV?’ And she didn’t know that I was on the phone talking to you. I remember thinking, ’She’s going to tell me that Heather’s hurt.’ But you didn’t tell me that. And then everything was so quiet like somebody had shut the volume control off on the world.

SB: For me, losing my daughter was like, you’ll have a lot of tears one time then you’ll go numb for awhile. And, uh, I’m glad you’re finally able to let some of yours out because you worried me there for awhile.

AW: Yeah. In May, I was going to have two kids graduating at the same time, and all I could think was I wanted her to be there.

SB: Yeah.

AW: But one of the plus sides was when you showed up to the graduation party.

SB: Your family was very welcoming but I kept thinking, ’Heather’s the one that should be here.’

AW: Yeah.

SB: For me, grief is like standing in the shallows of the ocean, knee-deep in the water. Every so often a wave will wash over. And so I allow myself to cry and be really sad while that wave is there. But I know that it will go away, and that’s what gets me through.

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During the 1968 Mexico City Olympics, many black athletes were called to protest racial inequality. Not all were able to do so. That was the case for Mel Pender, a 31-year-old track star in the U.S. Army, who was pulled from the jungles of Vietnam to compete.

During the 1968 Mexico City Olympics, many black athletes were called to protest racial inequality. Not all were able to do so. That was the case for Mel Pender, a 31-year-old track star in the U.S. Army, who was pulled from the jungles of Vietnam to compete.

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StoryCorps is launching a new initiative which brings people from opposite sides of the political divides to get to know one another. In summer of 2018, Tiffany Briseño and Israel Baryeshua met for the first time for such a discussion.

StoryCorps is launching a new initiative which brings people from opposite sides of the political divides to get to know one another. In summer of 2018, Tiffany Briseño and Israel Baryeshua met for the first time for such a discussion.

MR: I didn’t know besides, ’Good morning,’ and, ’What’s your name,’ when I came here. And when you were baby, I, I used to read to you the Dr. Seuss books. Like One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. And that’s how I learned English, reading to you.

E: You know, I, I never really put in much thought that you were an immigrant. I just thought that, you know, you’re my mom. And I never thought that you would have to leave.

I was at school when my phone buzzed and I just saw the notification that TPS was going to terminate. And I remember I started crying.

MR: When you called me, I tried to calm you down. I am like, okay, this is happening. This is really happening. So I put myself together because I knew that I have to be strong for you. And I didn’t promise something that I cannot keep. So I didn’t promise you that everything will be okay. But I promise I’m going to make sure that you are okay.

E: What are you most afraid of?

MR: I…terrified of missing you growing up. It’s terrifying. I think that I’m more afraid of that than to go back to my country. Yeah.

E: I’m scared that I’m gonna have to do everything all by myself.

MR: You’re not going to be alone, I promise to you that. And I’m very hard to get rid of.

E: [Laughs]

MR: So I’m going to be on the phone all the time.

E: What are your hopes for the future?

MR: That I’m going to die of an old age and be the pain on your neck all the time. [Laughs]

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In 1969, Civil Rights leader Edwin Pratt was assassinated in his own home with his wife and daughter, Miriam, present. Miriam Pratt and her godmother Jean Soliz came to StoryCorps to remember the aftermath.

In 1969, Civil Rights leader Edwin Pratt was assassinated in his own home with his wife and daughter, Miriam, present. Miriam Pratt and her godmother Jean Soliz came to StoryCorps to remember the aftermath.